Happy 100th post, my peeps! Now, onwards and upwards. This week we’re going to dive right in and share our top 5 pet peeves about exercising. You know, the usual gripes about lycra wedgies, salty-salty sweat, pungent workout gear, treadmill boredom and half-naked running dudes -well, ok, maybe they’re not so bad…
My numero uno peeve is when running knocks me out for the rest of the day. My last two 4 and 5.7 milers have left me nauseous and so tired I had a hard time walking the last quarter mile. So, yeah, all that nonsense about endorphins jazzing you up – where you at, endos, hmmm?
And what about the quick-step disintegration of my running shoes – where’s all my sole gone? How I wish we didn’t have to outlay a chunk of cash for takkies that give up and say uncle a few months down the road. The next time someone tells you running isn’t expensive, drag them to the nearest shoe store, show them the prices, raise your eyebrow – and smirk. Silly notion, squashed.
How about when your running gear gives out on you when there are still a couple miles to go, that’s a lovely moment. My good thighs burned through some tights, and I ended up with a one inch in diameter chaffing sore. So, thanks for the scar, Mr Exercising Gear Person.
Sometimes my running happens during rush hour, so I’m beating the heat, but there are way too many cars to dodge. And I think, why can’t there be a time when it’s cool, and there aren’t any cars, can’t they make that the official running hour? Oh wait, there is, it’s called 5 a.m. Gah. Heavy duty sigh.
The worst thing about any exercise routine is that no matter how much you love it, sooner or later the motivation will give out, and the only thing that will make you lace up your takkies is self-discipline. Why else would there be so many slogans and inspirational authors? In those deciding moments leading up to whether or not you head out the door, you can’t let brain-boredom be the deciding factor, ’cause what does that 3 pound bag of gray matter know anyhow? Gotta keep the love present, even when it’s just a tea-candle in the wind.
Acknowledge the bad, let it out of its sweaty closet, then shrug your shoulders and get on with living and running. Happy 100, folks!